


Love is only a four letter word

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, F/M, Living Together, friends to lover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:45:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma Simmons turned twenty-six she realized she never really truly understood love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love is for the way you're a laptop killer

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is guys. sorry

When Jemma Simmons turned twenty-six she realized she never really truly understood love. It hit her while she was at dinner with her boyfriend, who she often exchanged “I love you”s with. She thought she loved him, she thought she loved most of her boyfriends. But she didn’t understand it. Jemma knew of the science behind love though, but still in her mind it didn’t make sense. She knew it was because of a release of dopamine, and the neurotransmitter involved, but what she never fully grasped was how. How do you love someone?

There she was, a twenty six year old, sitting at a table with a boyfriend she had thought she loved, a boyfriend who had just proposed, when she realized she never let herself learn to love. She never truly opened her heart, and until she never realized it. She knew it was all chemical reaction, but she never truly opened herself up to people. 

So here she was, with a fiance, a grown woman, and yet she had no clue how to love. 

\-- 

Jemma Simmons was now twenty eight years old, no longer engaged or dating, and never experienced romantic love, or quite possibly any kind of love. She never understood how to love. But she accepted it. It wasn’t something she needed in life, she realized. She was happy. She had friends, she had a nice job, nice house. It didn’t feel like anything was missing. Until it was. 

She was in a coffee shop one day, sitting at one of the high table in the center of the room, occasionally sipping on her vanilla latte whilst working on her project report for work. Jemma always liked it in the middle of the room, surrounded by people meandering about as they enjoyed her day. She would often be distracted and find herself simply people watching. But today she really needed to finish her report; so here she was, vigorously typing in the details of the chemical reactions between different cellular chemicals she was testing when her laptop was pulled off the table, some idiot had thought it was a good idea to squeeze past her table and post and just so happened to trip over the cord, yanking her laptop to the ground. 

It clattered to the floor in a mangled heap, and while Jemma had yet to learn how to love, she was more than capable of anger. Which she was filled with, by the way. She violently turned to the killer of her laptop and did not hesitate on letting loose on him. 

“What the hell?” Jemma asked, her british accent becoming thicker as it did when she was angry. She looked up at the culprit and was met with a man with soft curly copper hair and blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I honestly didn’ see your laptop.”

“Sorry isn’t buying me a new laptop, now is it?” she retorted, her anger still fresh. 

“I already said I’m sorry,” he said, hostility quite obviously seeping into his voice, “I guess I could try to fix it.”

“Look at it, it’s completely ruined,” she bent down and picked up the remains of her laptop, “There’s five hundred dollars I have to spend.”

“I can seriously try and fix it,” he offered yet again.

“Unless you majored in Computer Engineering I doubt you can do anything.”

“I’m pretty much a computer engineer,” he shrugged. 

Without asking, he pulled out a chair and sat down. He sat a briefcase on the table, and pulled out a rolled up tool pouch. 

“So you’re an engineer?” Jemma offered, trying to quell the obvious awkwardness. 

“Yep,” he answered, not taking his eyes off the computer and he fiddled with the wires, “Leo Fitz, mechatronics.” 

“Jemma Simmons, biochem,” she replied in the same succinct fashion as him.

“Jemma Simmons,” he repeated, looking up from the computer, “Quite a pretty name you got there, Simmons.”

“Not so bad yourself, Fitz,” she smiled at him. 

They sat for a couple beats in silence. Fitz still doing something with the wire that Simmons didn’t understand. If they were muscles and nerves instead of wires and circuits she could’ve followed. But wires and tech, while she could understand just as easily if she tried, but she really didn’t want to. 

“So, I really hope this gets me on your good side,” Fitz said suddenly, his blue eyes meeting her own honey colored ones. 

“What do you mean?” Simmons inquired curiously, good side? He never did anything to get on her bad side. 

“I mean you sounded like you hated me,” Fitz said easily, “Ya know, with the yelling.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Jemma sighed, “I don’t hate you. You’re honestly right now in the place where everyone else I know is.”

“What?” Fitz asked, obviously confused by her semi-cryptic sentence. 

“I don’t know, honestly,” Simmons sighed again, “I got engaged two years ago and I realized I never fully let myself learn how to love, left my ex-fiance at the altar and-,” Jemma paused, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, “and I probably shouldn’t be dumping this on a complete stranger. Sorry, you probably wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re correct in that assumption Dr. Simmons,” Fitz had stopped working completely at this point, and was just looking at her. Obviously curious as to what the mystery of Jemma Simmons was. 

“I don’t really know either. It’s just, I don’t know what love is.”

“Well you should,” Fitz reasoned, “You’re a biochemist, chemical reactions in the brain are part of what you do.”

“I understand the chemical reaction, the dopamine, neurotransmitters, the chemical looping, all of it. But I don’t know when I love,” Jemma explained, “Not even just romantic. Any love at all. I never learned.”

“It’s not something you learn,” he said, “You just, do.”

She paused for a second, and took a sip of her now cold vanilla latte.

“What does it feel like?” she asked quietly, as if it were some forbidden fruit. 

“It can be amazing,” Fitz told her, “When it’s a good and romantic, it feels like a million butterflies have burst inside you all at once when you see them, and each time is like the first time all over again. You just feel safe and warm around them all the time. Not a care in the world.”

“That’s how my friends have described it,” Simmons nodded, gripping her latte like it was her only source of warmth, even if it was long past warm. 

“Is it true though?” Fitz asked curiously, “Did you really never learn to love?”

 

“I don’t know,” Simmons shrugged, “If I did I don’t quite know how to tell the difference from love and other emotions.”

“Have you ever thought you’re just aromantic?” Fitz suggested. 

“Yes,” Jemma replied, “But even aromantics still feel platonic love, and I’m almost positive I don’t. I’m, I don’t know what it is but I’m almost positive it’s not that.” 

Fitz was once again silent for a minute, returning to the work on her laptop. By this point she could tell he was working on attaching the screen hinge that had come loose. Although the bottom was still popped open, the “guts” hanging out.

“Can I say something?” Fitz asked, he’s been asking a lot of question, or has it only been a few?

 

“I guess,” Simmons replied. 

“I think you’re wrong,” he stated, “I think you do feel love, but it’s a concept you have too broken down. It can’t be broken down and processed as a series of chemical reactions. That’s not how emotions work, not everyone’s are the same. You can’t explain the concept of love, and once you start trying it will slip through your fingers. It’s not logical.”

“You’re a scientist,” Jemma said, stressing scientist, “Engineer or not, you should know everything needs to have a reasonable, rational, and logical reason. Things don’t just happen.” 

“It’s where you’re flawed,” he told her again.

“Okay,” she accepted quietly. 

And they moved on. Switched conversations from love to Doctor Who in a matter of seconds. Since both of them were from the UK they were raised on Doctor Who, which when they moved to America were pleased to find out that many Americans also enjoyed Doctor Who. The subject change was so quick, and the conversations from there on out were so light and simple, Simmons didn’t registered the small flutter her heart did when he asked for her number, because apparently they were friends. 

Yes. Friends. She like having him as a friend, she decided as she laid in bed, turning when her phone dinged. 

Unknown number :Its fitz

Unknown number: from the coffee shop btw. Idk if u know any other fitzs 

Simmons: Texting so soon? 

Fitz: Yes

Fitz: So I have a theory 

Simmons: yeah. Lets hear it 

Fitz: not yet. 

Simmons: why are you so difficult???

Fitz: this isn’t even me at my worst


	2. O is for the way you offer to give me anything (even if it's not needed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Jemma and Fitz grow closer (but then again that's all of them)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAIR WARNING: I will be at camp for two weeks and I leave on Sunday, so unless I can finish chapter three before then (which I probably won't) this is gonna be the last update for a few weeks. But don't worry, I plan on finishing this.

Weeks had passed by since Simmons’ fateful encounter with Fitz the mechatronics engineer, and she was surprised by how close they had grown in the few short weeks she knew him. He was brilliant, extremely bright, and he was able to keep up with her, despite not being a biochemist, or even anywhere near the field of biology. He just understood things, and understood her. 

“Come on, Jem,” Daisy complained. 

“No, I’ve told you for the millionth time,” Simmons said, slightly exasperated, “We’re not going to a club, and I am most certainly not doing body shots off a complete stranger regardless of how aesthetically pleasing his features are.”

“Come on,” Daisy repeated, “Just because you’re convinced you can’t love doesn’t mean can’t enjoy a good old fashioned one night stand. You have needs.”

“I have to at least have some sort of emotional connect with someone before I ‘sex them up’!” Jemma exclaimed. 

“Okay, Simmons,” Daisy started. 

“Don’t call me that,” Jemma interjected. 

“Why?” 

“Just don’t,” Simmons stated. 

Jemma’s phone started to ring and she took it as a chance to escape Daisy. She might have been her best friend for as long as Jemma could remember, and if she ever loved anyone outside her family she was sure it was Daisy, but the girl could be so aggressive sometimes. Always pushing. 

“Hi,” she said into the phone once she was in her room. 

“Simmons!” Fitz exclaimed. 

“Fitz,” Jemma replied, her tone slightly reprimanding. 

“I called to ask you something,” he said, “But I can’t remember what it was.”

Simmons could just imagine his eyebrows furrowing together, and the thought made her smile. 

“Well that’s just great, isn’t it?” Simmons asked sarcastically. 

“It seemed important,” Fitz said again, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head, at least she assumed he was. It was something he tended to do when he was thinking. 

“Well if you happen to remember give me a call,” Jemma told him, about to hang up the phone. 

“Wait!” he yelped, “Simmons, I just remembered. I wanted to tell you about a theory of mine. Now you said you never quite learned to love right? Well what-”

“Fitz,” she groaned, “I’m going to stop you right there. It doesn’t matter, drop it.”

 

“All I’m saying is-” he started. 

“Fitz, please just drop it,” she pleaded. 

“Fine,” he gave in, “Good night, Jemma.”

“Night, Fitz,” she returned. 

Jemma leaned against her bed and heaved a great sigh, “Ugh, Fitz,” she sighed. 

“Who’s Fitz?” Daisy asked, popping into the doorway. 

“Dear god! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Simmons exclaimed, followed by, “Don’t you knock?”

“We both know I don’t,” she laughed, “Seriously, who’s Fitz?”

Daisy flopped onto the bed, hanging her head down so she was eye-level with Jemma. 

“Do you have a secret boyfriend?” she teased in a tone only high schoolers used. 

“No, god no! Fitz is just a friend,” Jemma explained. 

“I-” Daisy started. 

“No!” Simmons put her fingers to Daisy’s lips, “If I promise to go clubbing with you will you please not mention Fitz?”

“Yes,” Daisy said quickly, “But only if I get to pick your dress.”

“Fine,” Simmons sighed, “I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me know when you have one picked out.”

“In the kitchen?” Daisy asked incredulously, “What would you be doing in the kitchen?”

“Going through mail.”

“You’re so boring,” Daisy said, already going through Jemma’s closet. 

“You say that everytime we go out,” Jemma replied. 

Jemma really did need to go through her mail, she hadn’t gone through it in weeks because she was so busy with work. Leaning against the kitchen counters, Jemma sighed as she filtered through the mail and sorted it into three piles; bills, personal, and junk. So far it was standard mail, coupons, water bill, utilities, a few scams, and then. No.

An eviction notice. How could she be getting evicted? She was the perfect tenant. She wasn’t loud, she always paid her bills weeks before they were due, she kept the apartment in nice shape, why was she getting evicted. Her eyes scanned the paper quickly. The landlord had gone bankrupt and had to sell the building, and apparently it was going to serve as office space now. According to the date she had… two days. She should’ve gone through her mail earlier. 

“Jem,” Daisy said, snapping her fingers in front of her face, “You’ve been staring at the same piece of paper for like five minutes.”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. 

“You sure?” Daisy asked, “You know you can tell me.”

 

“I know,” Jemma replied before there was a knock on her door. Daisy rushed to the door and opened it before Simmons even had a chance to stand up. Daisy flung open the door to reveal Fitz.

“I know I-,” he stopped, “You’re Daisy right?”

“And who are you?” Daisy asked, leaning against the doorway and putting her flirting voice on. 

“Fitz,” he extended a hand which she shook slowly. 

Simmons quickly rushed to the door and stood next to Daisy, pushing her out of the door frame, who protested loudly. 

“Do you not want me to meet your friend?” Daisy asked, pushing her way back into the doorway, and Jemma fought vigorously, pushing back and forth until Daisy gave in and stepped away. 

“Fine,” she sulked, “I guess I’ll go sit in the living room and watch people on the boring, flat, TV.”

“Sorry about that,” Simmons apologized, “What did you need?”

“I think I forgot my phone charger here,” he said, motioning inside her apartment. 

“Yes, I think you did,” Jemma answered, stepping away from the entrance to let him in, “I’m pretty sure it’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay,” he said, ducking into the kitchen. 

“So he’s Fitz,” Daisy quietly commented. 

“What?” Jemma whispered, sounding somewhat exasperated. 

“He’s cute.”

“I mean I guess,” Simmons said. 

“And-” Daisy said before Fitz came into the living room from her kitchen, holding her eviction notice. 

“Are you being evicted?” he asked. 

“Now that’s a stupid question,” she answered, her tone light and joking, “But yes, I have three days.”

“You can always stay with me,” he and Daisy said in unison. 

“Daisy you live with your boyfriend,” Jemma stated blankly. 

“Lincoln won’t mind,” Daisy said, “Okay, so you probably can’t stay with me."

“I happen to have a spare bedroom,” Fitz offered.

“No, Fitz,” Jemma started, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

 

“Come on, Simmons,” he told her, “I’m not asking.”

“How come he gets to call you Simmons?” Daisy asked, making her presence known after she was seemingly forgotten. 

“Because he’s not annoying,” Jemma snapped. 

Simmons huffed and sat down on the couch. 

“So?” Fitz asked, Daisy off to the side sulking again. 

“I don’t want to impose… ,” she trailed off.

“You’re not imposing. I’m offering,” Fitz said. 

“Fine,” she sighed, “But I swear it won’t be more than two weeks, three tops.”

“You can stay as long as you want,” he smiled, sitting down next to her and holding her hand delicately in his. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice practically a whisper. 

“No problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> So i had this really awesome thing planned out where it would be four chapters and like L is for... O is for... and so on until E, like the song. but then i realized, WTF would I do for V. so idk.


End file.
